


Welcome To The Promised Land

by assholemurphy



Series: Stories From The Promised Land [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Edited for spelling/grammar, M/M, Monty-centric, Murphy only comes in at the end, Post Season 2, not really shippy, somewhat ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholemurphy/pseuds/assholemurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to cope with what he’s done, Monty leaves Camp Jaha and sets out across the desert. He faces a lot of discomfort and danger, resulting in a few injuries, but ultimately he makes it across the ocean and onto the doorstep of someone he’d never expected to see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome To The Promised Land

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first The 100 fic, so I'm sorry for any ooc-ness or bad writing in general. Thanks.

 

Shaking the nearly empty water canteen, Monty sighed. Sand had gotten into everything, his shoes, his hair, his pack, there was even some in the water he had, not that there was any left now. He needed to find a source soon, otherwise he doubted he'd survive out here much longer. Maybe this _was_ a bad idea.

Of course, traveling across a desert by himself with no actual destination in mind, much less a map, really couldn't be called anything else, could it? But he hadn't really had a choice, or he'd convinced himself that was the case. Honestly, what else was he to do? Stay in the camp full of people who didn't understand what he'd done? Who viewed him as some sort of hero instead of the monster he'd become? He'd been responsible for the irradiation of Mt. Weather, without him it would have been impossible, he held most of the blame and he knew it. Jasper knew it too.

Jasper, there was always Jasper. His best friend since forever, his best friend who was as good as his brother, his best friend who wouldn't even look him in the eye anymore. And Monty understood, he did, he deserved it. He'd been responsible for killing Jasper's girlfriend, been responsible for killing everyone in Mt. Weather. He couldn't stay there, couldn't be praised for saving everyone when he'd killed twice as many. So he'd done the only thing he could think to. He'd banished himself.

So far, banishment hadn't been that bad. Hot, sandy, and lonely, yes, but he could think of worse things. He could've been caught by Grounders, there were tribes out here, he'd heard. Nomads in the desert. He'd made it this far without meeting anyone, thankfully. Or he could've been blown up by the minefield, he was still thanking whatever had helped him cross that without dying. Maybe the mines had already been blown up or something, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

Or he could be at Camp Jaha mourning the people he'd loved. There was always something worse.

Worse than dying in a desert all alone because he hadn't brought enough water. Worse than what he deserved. It could be worse.

The thought settled itself in Monty's mind as he climbed up the giant sand dune in front of him. He had to be close to something, the desert couldn't go on forever. If he just made it over this hill, maybe he'd make it out. Maybe.

Climbing on sand was definitely one of Monty's least favorite things. It was almost like he wasn't moving at all, except when he slipped and slid back several feet. It was such a simple task in theory, but in practice, he really wished he'd brought a stick or something to anchor him to this pile of crap. Digging into the dune and forcing himself up the last few feet, Monty flopped down on the top, exhausted by the effort of walking across the desert for almost a week. Maybe he could just lie here for a while, just a little bit, until the sun came up. He could sleep here and then continue in the morning, no problem. The sand was as comfortable and as soon as he rolled over he'd be able to sleep.

Or fall down a sand dune. Either one was fine.

Groaning, Monty sat up and spat out a few mouthfuls of sand. Of course, hills have sides. He was too tired to properly think, but now that he was down here, he might as well move on. The sand down here was considerably less comfortable anyway. Standing up, he held his hands out, steadying himself. After a couple of stumbling steps, he managed to get himself straightened out enough to move forward. In the dark he could make out giant poles around him, but he couldn't tell exactly what they were. He couldn't say he really cared, either, his head hurt too much. No, this was definitely a bad idea. Too late to turn around now, though, he'd never make it back that far. He had to keep going.

He weaved a strange path down the center of the poles, unable to walk in a straight line. Maybe it was because he was tired, he should sleep soon, but after he found water. There had to be water close by, he was sure. If he could just keep going- But where was he going to? Was there something at the end of this desert? Would it end at all? Was there a place he was going and he just couldn't remember? No, he didn't think so. He didn't think he had anywhere to go now. _God, his head hurt._  If he had no where to go, why was he going at all? Couldn't he just lie down here? No, he couldn't. There was a reason why he had to keep going, he knew that, it had something to do with the burn in his throat, but he couldn't think beyond that. It hurt to think.

He looked up, scanning around, hoping to see something, anything that might tell him how much further he had to go, but he saw nothing but inky blackness. He'd left the poles behind him, so it looked like he was standing in the middle of nothing, with an even darker nothing stretching out in front of him. Nothing.

A yell tore out of Monty's throat. He'd been walking for _days_ and he was still in this wasteland. He was going to die here, alone and sun burnt. He was going to die out here because he would rather be alone and dead than face what he'd done. He'd been a coward, he'd run off, and now he was going to pay for it. By dying in the middle of this stupid desert. He kicked at the sand and let out another scream, the sound raspy and quiet from lack of water. He grabbed the canteen and chucked it as far as he could. It was of no use to him now. It landed a few yards away with a splash.

Monty stopped raging, the sand settling around him as he stared at the darkness, shocked by what he'd heard. A splash. That meant water. He wasn't going to die out here after all. He could have laughed, if his throat didn't feel like it'd been ripped in two.

Running forward, Monty didn't stop until he was knee deep in the inky water. Reaching down he filled his hands and brought them to his lips. God, he wasn't going to die of dehydration in the middle of nowhere. He shook his head chuckling silently in relief. He dunked his head under the water, rinsing out some of the sand. The water, and the fact that he wasn't going to die anytime soon, had forced sleep from his mind. He had to find a way across the water.

Retreating back to shore, thoroughly drenched, he noticed the sky had turned from black to a dark blue. The sun would be up soon, he should probably find a way across the water before it did. The sooner he crossed the water the sooner he might find civilization. In the new light, he could make out the shapes of things better, enough to realize that there was a boat, only a few yards from him on the shore. It seemed a bit strange, but he didn't care, it was what he needed and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. After fetching his canteen, which thankfully had floated back to shore, rather than away, and filling it, he set his pack in the boat. He'd never been in one before, but he remembered reading about them briefly, they hadn't really caught his interest, but he didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out.

After a few minutes of figuring out exactly how the boat worked best, it was smooth sailing. He couldn't help but think Jasper would've liked this, but Jasper was mad at him, and part of the reason he was in the boat in the first place. He really needed to stop thinking about Jasper, it hurt, knowing he'd probably never see him again. Knowing Jasper probably preferred it that way.

Two days later, Monty was starting to feel like yelling again. He'd been doing alright, aside from the time he fell asleep and veered of course for about two hours, but he figured he'd corrected that. Not that it mattered, he still had no idea where he was going or what he'd find when he got there. The only difference between the desert and the boat was that he had water and couldn't move very much without risking tipping the thing over. It was frustrating and dull, and his arms felt like jelly. He'd noticed land about half an hour ago, so he was sure he was going the right direction, at least he hoped so. He'd thought he'd be able to make it before the sun set, but now he wasn't so sure.

He focused on the ever growing dark splotches on the horizon, he estimated it would take him another hour at this rate, and by then the sun would have set. He hated being on the water after dark. He noticed ripples following him whenever he looked back during the night. He didn't know what caused them and he'd rather never find out, whatever it was gave him a bad feeling. He was close enough that he could almost make out the land in front of him, but the dimming light prevented him from seeing much more than a beach and some blue hazy trees. He'd be on land soon, it was so close, he almost couldn't believe it would be as easy as this.

He was right in thinking it was too easy, he told himself as the sun set completely, the ripples were back and he was sure they'd never been that close before. He had half a mind to poke at them with the paddle, but he doubted that'd be a very good idea. It would probably reveal whatever it was, but then again, he doubted he _wanted_ to know what it was. He was only a few minutes away from shore now, so there was a pretty good chance he'd make it, after all, the ripples hadn't ever bothered him before.

Monty continued trying to reassure himself as the ripples got bigger, knowing something was going to breach the surface, he began to row faster. That was revealed to be a lost cause a moment later when the ripples disappeared under his boat and then reappeared as a giant snake creature that split his boat in half. Monty was left flailing in the water and staring down a giant sea snake. Oh, yeah, this was so far beyond a bad idea.

He panicked, lashing out with one of the oars and hitting the creature a few times. Undeterred the creature opened it's mouth, launching itself and several rows of teeth at Monty. He screamed, throwing away the paddle and pushing himself as far to the side as possible. The water was not helpful, weighing him down and making it hard to find anything to kick off from, but he managed to avoid the creatures teeth for the most part, only his side getting grazed. He used the creatures body to kick off and push himself towards shore faster. He wasn't as fast as the creature, not by any means, but if he could just get to shallow water he might be able to get rid of it.

Forcing himself forward despite the pain in his side, he swam towards shore, vaguely aware of the creature resurfacing behind him. He could make it, he could make it, he knew he could, he just had to keep going. The monster dove at him again, this time he wasn't as lucky. The creature latched onto his leg and pulled him out of the water. A shriek escaped Monty's throat, the pain was nearly unbearable. He wasn't going to die at the hands, well, mouth, of some overgrown slug.

“Let go of me!” He roared, slamming his fists into the snake. “Get off, get off, get off!” His assault seemed to work and the creature opened it's mouth, trying to eat it's violent prey. Instead, Monty fell from it's mouth back into the water. If he could just drag himself through the water a little further, just until he was the shallows, he'd be alright. He moved through the water, not so much swimming as flailing, until he could feel the sand under his hands.

He'd made it. He'd made it past that damned snake. He was out of it's reach. He really, really should have stayed at Camp Jaha.

He didn't stop moving until he was completely out of the water. Once he was on land, he dropped, sand coated his wet skin, but he didn't care. He'd made it. He'd lost his pack and he was fairly certain he leg was broken, but he'd made it to land and that was enough for now. He laid there, panting for what seemed like an eternity, losing blood and falling in and out of consciousness.

He was so out of it he didn't hear the footsteps approaching him. He didn't realize he wasn't alone until strong hands reached down to pick him up, sending sharp pain throughout his body. He whined, grabbing at the hands holding him.

“Stop, stop. It hurts, let me go.” He managed to get out between gritted teeth. When the hands didn't retreat he balled his hands into fists and struck out wildly, trying to rid himself of his attacker. “Let me go, now!” He shouted when his fist collided with something.

A faint 'oof' came from his assailant before a growl, “Would you stop fucking flailing? I'm not gonna hurt you!”

“Let go of me!” He refused, “I don't want to die, let me go!”

“I'm trying to help you, dammit!” The attacker insisted, but Monty didn't believe him, instead, he struck out at where the voice came from, striking his attacker in the face.

“What the fuck!” The assailant shouted, dropping Monty back onto the sand.

Monty screamed, his leg caught underneath him when he landed and he could feel the skin ripping.

“Shit.” The attacker's hands had returned, this time they were wrapping around him, careful not to touch Monty's leg. “Shit, Monty, stay still this time, will you?”

“How'd you know my name?” Monty managed to get out as his attacker picked him up. Where was he? Who would know him out here? Maybe he was hallucinating?

“Doesn't matter, just don't punch me again or I'll leave you here, got it?”

“Yeah, okay, yeah.” Monty nodded, gripping the man's shirt. “You're not going to kill me, are you?”

“Wasn't planning on it.” The reply came as they started moving away from the beach.

Monty didn't know where they were going, but now that he wasn't panicking, he realized that he recognized the voice from somewhere, he just couldn't place it. The familiarity, as little as it was, gave him some comfort. “Safe, then?”

“Yeah it's safe. You're safe now.” The man nodded, darkness covering most of his face, but Monty could swear he knew who it was. The gruffness, the voice, and the dark hair, though it was longer than he remembered.

“Murphy?” Monty asked through a yawn. Couldn't be. Murphy had run off after he'd tried to hang Bellamy. That was a long time ago, so much had happened, could he really have been here the whole time?

“Yeah.” The man, Murphy, apparently, confirmed with a laugh. “Welcome to the Promised Land."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated. If you want, you can find my tumblr, which is also assholemurphy.


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